Moonbox Notes #4: May 2022

It’s been 7 weeks. A span of time that is impossible to convey without some form of exaggeration. It’s been like dreaming. Mountains rise and fall away. The tightness changes into pain into tightness into dull shapes at the heel or arch or up the calf in cables. There are moments I forget everything. Sleep a black sleep. Then there are flashing scenes: tea bag, tent pitch, the slow tug of a climbing shoe around the heel, a spoon on the tongue, hairbrush, riverbank, paintings of indigenous feminism in a museum. … More Moonbox Notes #4: May 2022

Moonbox Notes #3: April 2022

The festival itself encompasses aspects of this as well, the play of meeting new people, the play of finding yourself sipping rum and coke as you watch people spin fire, the play of helping others, the play of witnessing visual art in a public space, the play of learning hard truths — play, as in, the novelty, sure, but also the reciprocity, the indulgence, the curiosity, the embodiment, the unpredictability. … More Moonbox Notes #3: April 2022

Moonbox Notes #2: March 2022

Even the Gray Wolf with a dark, mottled coat that stares at me from the wall-calendar photo is a part of this meta-equation. The forested background is blurred, the foreground is soft in grass and wind, the only sharpness being the wolf: a premise, if you will, one that contemplates the viewer. Not unlike a physical bridge, where what happens before and after, or maybe even during the crossing, is specific to the user; the prompt is only ever a bridge. … More Moonbox Notes #2: March 2022

Moonbox Notes #1: February 2022

The whiteboard has words like cupless and scree scribbled on it, a part of a list. It has reminders to work on edits for current projects, rediscover and submit writing that has lived on my hard drive for over a decade, have my IUD removed from my uterus, schedule a mammogram for August. For now, at least, I can leave the need to think about removing my ovaries hanging abstractly in the air. … More Moonbox Notes #1: February 2022

The Chickadee (& Humanity)

“What are you?” asks the chickadee. “Your humble relative,” replies the Chief. “What are you?” asks the chickadee. “Your savior!” replies the colonist. “What are you?” asks the chickadee. “Lost,” replies the wanderer whose inherent meandering means not planning ahead. “What are you?” asks the chickadee. “This moment,” replies the philosopher, monk, or new-age spiritualist … More The Chickadee (& Humanity)

My First Red Rock Rendezvous

When the festival began at the Spring Mountain Ranch State Park, I pitched my tent into a corner of the designated grass field, near the barbed-wire fence, so strangers couldn’t flank me on all sides (pro-tip?). I’m glad I did so; when the crowds arrived, tents were stacked next to each other like dominoes—and domino pieces are exactly what I thought of that very night. At 2:45 a.m., I woke to my tent pressed against my face. … More My First Red Rock Rendezvous

BLDG Active: Skin & Wound Care for the Outdoor Masses

“The breakdown, BLDG Active explains, is that “when skin damage occurs, the body responds by sending white blood cells,” and thus, HOCL is produced to help fight bacteria and heal. Topically treating wounds with products containing HOCL only reciprocates the way the body heals itself internally.” … More BLDG Active: Skin & Wound Care for the Outdoor Masses

Never Not Collective is Pretty Strong

They consider themselves to be quite the team of “unapologetic women of the outdoors…seeking to tell the stories of everyday people doing great things, brave things…” If you’ve ever met any one of them, you know this to be very true. Their energy exudes confidence and rings with the desire to build up community. It is also apparent how passionate they are, especially with the commitment to share their passions with others. Bringing forth varied backgrounds, from writing, multi-media, to analytics, their mission is to fuse genres and create unique and diverse perspectives in order to achieve a more holistic connection with viewers. … More Never Not Collective is Pretty Strong

Boundary Waters, Part 3: Memory of Sounds

All our shoulders are sore. My feet incite anxiety when they get wet. Tired legs. Today is more or less a do-nothing day but my body is in a funk. I’m quiet. Almost somber. Energy low. Raging headache. I ask Hatie for some of her Advil. I’m in an endurance hangover, it seems. I don’t even want to expend the energy talking so I daydream about napping. … More Boundary Waters, Part 3: Memory of Sounds